War Was Over
by spheeris1
Summary: Massively AU :: Angst and sad stuff :: Ashley POV :: One-shot :: '...she was in love with someone once, so very long ago…' :: Highly suggest listening to 'Summer Rain' by Alphaville whilst reading this...


She sits back, shoulders aching, and remembers that there were once days that found her unfettered – blown about by the summer winds and hair wild in the sea, in love… she was in love with someone once, so very long ago…

///

The war is over, battered metal over black-sand beaches – burned and scorched remains of volcanoes, of dying soldiers – and she didn't grow up here, but she has lived here happily.

And she runs around with so many boys, some with stars on their shoulders and some with stars merely in their eyes, all of them full of rum and cigarette smoke.

It isn't a duty. It is a pleasure.

Her mother's cold words, echoing from an apartment back in another lifetime, used to nag her underneath cool sheets. But now they ring hollow against kisses and dancing and the joy of living a life of decadent ease.

But it had to happen eventually.

It had to shatter almost imperceptibly, a hairline fracture on her heart, and she had to tumble head-long into something forbidden, into something astounding.

/ / /

Held fast by a husband's hand, gold band on the left hand – fourth finger – and weary eyes, the eyes of every young man to ever watch the world get shot down… Spencer Carlin walks along the empty three o'clock road and Ashley knows this girl has lost everything.

A son, a lover, a brother, a father – you lose them, you watch them take flight and never come down, you stand by as they take on shrapnel… you stand by as they get torn apart…

But here, the drinks flow fast and emotions are cheap, you don't come here to bring up the past.

You come here to forget, to swim with the bright yellow fish and swing in your hammock and get sand stuck along your skin.

Spencer Carlin is looking to forget and Ashley knows all about that.

/ / /

The old man takes care of Spencer Carlin, bringing food and blankets, firewood and candles made of sweet-scented wax. And the old man keeps everyone away, seeming to know when the girl wanted to talk and when the girl wanted to be silent.

Ashley edges closer and closer, not even sure why, not needing a woman's companionship – sister was left behind, barely of age and still smacking bubblegum lips – Ashley didn't need to talk about dresses or about children.

She isn't a tomboy, scraped knees and dirty fingernails.

She is almost a pin-up girl, Betty Grable only had blonde hair to raise the ante –but Ashley's legs went on forever and her smile was seductive and she cursed and she laughed at all the right moments.

It isn't a duty. It is a pleasure.

It isn't a job. It is a life.

Other girls got paid and got noses turned up. Ashley just likes having a good time… all the time.

But she edges closer and closer still, working up some long-lost nerve to go and put her feet on this girl's porch and knock on this girl's door.

The old man doesn't stop her.

/ / /

"Are you a native of this place?"

"Oh god no, hardly anyone is anymore."

"Oh."

"I'm from Chicago. How about you?"

"Just somewhere else."

It could have been cold, like ice down your back, but it isn't and Ashley doesn't pry – she never pries – and the girl smiles at her then, like it is the best compliment ever given.

"I think I'd like to go out there one day."

And Ashley doesn't have to ask, because if you aren't here to drown or drift then you are here to disappear, and she looks to the ocean.

The choppy waves, peaks of frothy white, and the dark blue – shadowed and alluring – and many men have taken off for places unknown.

The ocean, holding onto sharks and sting-rays… holding onto masts and bones…

"Okay, how about tomorrow?"

/ / /

They sail and they sleep and they eat, the old man turning into a skipper and familiar faces watch from the shore – they build bonfires to keep anyone from getting lost in the night.

When a plane passes over, Ashley wonders who is fighting the urge to run away from the sound.

Spencer looks haunted, a ghost, and the old man rushes to turn this steed around again.

And, as if it happens all the time and as if everyone expected it and as if Ashley hadn't ever been kissed on the lips – Spencer doesn't let Ashley go.

Back on dry land and drunkenness spilling out onto the beach, the old man telling tales and men boasting old glories and girls hanging on their knees… back on dry land, Ashley gets tugged to a bedroom and is thoroughly flummoxed by desire.

/ / /

She wakes up sore and still sleepy and the waves keep on crashing.

The birds keep on calling and the bells ring on many a deck.

It feels like a storm is brewing and a soft kiss is placed upon her shoulder, benediction and blessing and damnation and Ashley feels this kiss all the way to her toes.

Spencer curls around her, cat-like, and Ashley can't just walk away.

She has spent her whole life just walking away, just running away, just moving away.

But the war is over and everyone lost someone – Spencer lost someone, wedding band growing duller every day – and Ashley doesn't want to leave.

They turn at the same time, just as the first blast of rain hits the walls, and they kiss.

Slow and soft kisses, hard and rushed kisses, touches so hot that Ashley feels like pine trees on fire and the sounds that slip out of Spencer's mouth are fuel – hotter and hotter still, until they are straining with so much heat and release.

/ / /

They can talk about so many things and then they can't talk at all.

Spencer grows moody sometimes and Ashley doesn't stray, but she doesn't always stay by the girl's side – itchy feet walk to the bars and she sings along with these people she knows and she forgets… for a moment… that she is in love with a woman she barely knows.

And they always come back together, deeds speaking so loudly, and they always find the other there in the morning.

Spencer and her octopus-arms and dawn-drenched face – Spencer and her whispered begging and lamb-smooth skin… Ashley doesn't want to ever leave.

But there are times that Ashley keeps quiet and she can feel Spencer's blue eyes staring – wondering and thinking – and it almost breaks this unknown girl into admitting everything.

The admissions hover there, for endless seconds, and she can feel Spencer's distance wavering.

Wavering, sinking like a stone – and then they are kissing again and neither of them can handle the fact that they are moving on… that they are somehow letting go of the buried and the lost and finding happiness in one another.

So, they ruin it and make love and wait for the next instance of almost-truth.

/ / /

The war is over, but thunder claps still sound like bombs and like fighting.

It is a Billy or a Robert or a William, missing arms or legs or eyes, sitting at the bar and drinking and trying to remember some other day – not the one that took everything away –but when they played baseball with friends who are still alive or when they took girls to the movies, eager hands making novice moves.

Ashley sees her father, pressed uniform and a scar along his right cheek, cold and lifeless and in a box.

And she rushes to replace the image with one of him playing guitar, of him dancing with her mother, of him picking her up and twirling her around.

She'll never know who Spencer sees – a man who made the girl grin, who asked her for forever and Spencer gave it… or did the foolish man just leave the girl, leave her for another woman and a new existence, driving Spencer out of the suburbs and into the world…

She'll never know who Spencer grieves and who Spencer misses, who Spencer loves and who Spencer loathes. Sometimes, Ashley doesn't know any of this about herself… not anymore…

/ / /

The sailboat comes back empty and everyone offers what solace they can, not understanding this love that they shouldn't condone but couldn't condemn either – in this life, in this world, you take the affection you can get and you don't judge too harshly.

They say waves and they say inexperience and they say so many things, but it is just words upon words and Ashley sees the old man's slow gait across the shoreline and she can almost see Spencer's desperate gaze… and she knows all she needs to.

It drives something deep into her soul, though, and it is sharp – it is stinging, it is heavy – and it never goes away. Ashley feels like breathing is a chore now.

Labored breath after labored breath, lungs no longer working…

And among random souvenirs – some clothes, some postcards that speak of people that Ashley doesn't know how to reach… or if she would, if she could… a picture of Spencer, white as a winter sky, arm in arm with some tall man.

He smiles with his fine jaw and his wavy dark hair, his whole face is sure and whole and once-real.

And Spencer, face framed by golden ringlets, is the most beautifully trapped person Ashley has ever seen.

That's when Ashley cries and cries until it is weeks later.

/ / /

The last dream of her long life, one spent still collecting battered comrades and destitute spirits… always the ravages of battle dragging the survivors to this beach and this bar and this home away from home… the last dream of her life takes her back years and years.

Standing in Spencer's little room, watching the girl move about and sit things just so and clear off the counter and walk purposefully outside.

And Ashley follows, unable to stop it and unwilling to wake up.

And they sail in silence.

And they sit in waters gone still.

That's when Spencer cries and cries until it seems like hours later.

And just when Ashley expects nothing but death, Spencer talks out loud.

And the girl talks about everything – Ohio and loss and pain and choices made out of sacrifice.

Spencer talks about things like shame and despair and, at last… about love.

Heartbreaking love and earth-shattering love and bring-you-to-your-knees love…

"Don't let her think I don't love her, because I do… I do… but this guilt is killing me, this guilt is slicing me open and it makes me push her away. But never far enough away, I can't do that… I can't let her go, oh God, I just can't let her go…"

A wedding band into the sea and choking sobs and a plea for forgiveness – and Spencer is gone.

/ / /

She was in love with someone, so very long ago… and the war had ended, opening up a new universe – not a better one, just different – to anyone who chanced to grab it…

And Ashley did, for a day… for an hour… for just a second… Ashley grabbed onto something good.

And in the last dream of her long life, she intends to find it once again and to not let go for anything.

/ / /

END


End file.
